


Accession

by peoriapeoria



Series: Fitter of the Species [33]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Character of Color, Female Steve Rogers, Gen, Origin Story, Original Character(s), POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 05:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17016447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peoriapeoria/pseuds/peoriapeoria
Summary: This is the story of an assignment, an artifact and an adventure. Avengers Assemble.





	Accession

Teresa looked at the contents of the archival box and then back at the inventory list. The text stated "dancer's bracelets". The box contained two plaques with dependent rings. She was in the school's excavation storage because her dissertation advisor had 'discovered' several misidentified artifacts related to physics presented as ethnographic art. Noting bad labels while eating canapés was no more discovery than taking the incorrect field notes in the first place.

These were not the corroded remnants of equipment. They were beautiful. Lenses, they looked like stacked lenses made of metal. She took one out, bright against her dark skin and spread it on her board. The large ring was articulated, and Teresa found the smaller rings were as well. The plaque would fit on the back of her hand, the small rings stabilizing it at three points, the wrist being the fourth. She looked into the box. The other looked much the same.

Had they been found on a dancer? The paperwork didn't give more than Tunis and an accession date early in the 20th century. She couldn't make out the name of the acquiring agent, though it would likely match up with a less cramped version elsewhere.

She gently placed the artifact back into its box with its mate. She nudged one of her braids with a couple of fingers, she had a lot more shelf to do today.

\---------

Teresa had, over the months found only a few items that met her advisor's project brief. She had not mentioned the bracelets, though she had researched their provenience. Her suspicion was mad; it would be mad if things hadn't come out of the sky above Manhattan. Now, in a world where aliens tried to invade, a billionaire took responsibility for his actions and mutants fought for the right to exist, was it so mad to think something had been lost or set aside at a center of the world?

She had tried to determine how old they were, or at least how long they'd been in Tunis. They weren't susceptible to the tests she'd attempted and she didn't want to risk damaging them. She had taken them from storage and returned them several times. Teresa looked at the plaques, the shine entrancing. She placed one over the back of her left hand, bending the bracelet around her wrist, closing rings around her middle finger, pinky and thumb. She did likewise for her right hand. It was time to re-lacquer her nails, the pink line at the cuticle was apparent.

Lights, symbols, there was a directory! Teresa wasn't sure if it was HUD or playing directly to her mind. She rolled her hands, watching the flash of pink palms to black backs peeking from under gleaming metal. She could, feel it calibrating to her. It was translating itself, however unevenly. This was going to take time to read.

\----------

Teresa adjusted the strap of her messager bag over her shoulder. She had completed her dissertation but had not gotten even much interest in her applications. The sublet in NYC had been a nice distraction but reality meant she'd be returning 'home' soon if something didn't change.

She'd replaced the bracelets in the storage box with aluminum replicas- the fakes had a lot more blue glass and simpler rings. They'd never made it into as much as a literature review; she'd etched a few lines of Doctor Who onto each microscopically. The real ones, she only knew of one place they'd be safe and of use. She was taking them to Avengers Tower.

Giving them up would be difficult. Teresa could appreciate the physics in them. How the directory translated itself for her, that would require specialists. A burst of hot air came from above, unlike any wind. She scrambled to avoid the rolling super-battle. She saw people pull each other into doorways, back out of crosswalks, human confetti pooling. She wasn't sure if it was Green Goblin or Hobgoblin flitting about and tossing bombs. Someone had watched too much Back to the Future, or maybe not enough.

Falcon built up too much inertia to counter the sudden vector changes. His wingspan wasn't that wide, but this wasn't ideal terrain. The Goblin pulled free one of the banner poles and charged like a mad jouster. No contact, but it forced Falcon to swoop just over the surface of traffic for several blocks. Vision blasted the Goblin. Teresa wondered where the rest of the Avengers were. She spotted Scarlet Witch and Black Widow approaching aerially, while Captain America approached on foot running. She considered Hawkeye trying to find a window that opened or in an elevator making for a roof.

Traffic had snarled, several cars had taken bombs, fortunately not through the windshields or windows. Captain America got caught up in directing people out of the street, bouncing hurled bombs away from pedestrians. Teresa saw why Spider-Man normally made the news dealing with the Green and Hobgoblins. Something went past her, too fast to see.

Now there were two Goblins zipping around overhead. That had the benefit they seemed more interested in fighting each other, while cars started pulling up onto the cleared sidewalks like sped up domino video. Fastest valet parking.

Except, flinging bombs at fast and dodgy targets meant a lot of them started hitting the buildings high above the ground raining glass and whatever else down and across. This was looking like a job for the Fantastic Four. She dug in her messager bag, putting on the bracelets. They'd not taken on the outside chill. She pulled up the skiing cowl from her turtleneck, its satin edge against her hair. She stepped forward, palms up and out. The debris hail slid down the platter of force, rocking with the impacts.

Everything started happening at once. All Teresa could do was meet the incoming and hope. Hope it was enough, hope someone could finish this fight. And then it was over.

"Ma'am, please come with us." Captain America was talking to her.

She'd have to take her hair down, make sure she didn't have ground glass caught in it. Not seeing any better alternatives, she jogged north with the Avengers on foot as emergency vehicles took over the scene. Which was to say she, Black Widow, and Captain America were on foot while Scarlet Witch and Vision hovered just over the ground.

They entered Avengers Tower as a group, through the revolving door, and to the elevator bank. They stepped into a car, joined by a young man with frosted hair. Quicksilver. He must have been the one to clear the road. The trip took less time than to file in, though spilling out wasn't quite as long. She noticed the top of the Chrysler building out the window.

"Doctor Banner, it's an honor to meet you." She had her hand outstretched before considering she had the gauntlets on.

"Um, thanks." He very gently grasped her hand by the fingers before pulling away.

She looked around, trying to read the room.

Falcon, his wing-pack and goggles off, glid over, extended his hand. "Thanks for the assist." 

It was a good grip. She smiled.

"Okay, we got it done," Captain America interjected, "but we need better tactics for this sort of situation."

"Can't exactly run across rooftops, Steve." He turned to her. "May I take your coat?" 

She shifted her bag and took off her coat. This isn't how she'd imagined this, handing Bucky Barnes her wrap. Hawkeye was watching her which was fair, she might have gawped a bit at him. Something teased at her just out of reach, mentally.

"Was that the hardware or you?" Black Widow asked.

She watched Captain America, cowl now removed.

"It is a good question." Captain America confirmed. She sat next to Dr. Banner. "It wasn't chance we ran into each other."

Teresa sat, noticing as the rest of the team did too, except for Vision. "I was on the way here. Was the first one Green Goblin or Hobgoblin?"

"Hobgoblin unless they've changed costumes," answered Captain America. "So, I'm thinking you know us, and from the mask, you're not sure about us knowing you."

That was true. She'd pulled up the mask because of the public, but three of the people in this room had been brought in front of Congressional Commissions. S.H.I.E.L.D. had been rife with what anywhere else would be moles and information had been dumped into the internet. "You're not wrong. I know your media selves." She thought a moment. "It's the hardware."

Captain America and Black Widow shared a subtle conversation conducted in expression and posture.

Falcon interjected. "Why were you coming here? You've practiced with those."

She had. Modifying a tennis ball machine and then a pitching machine hadn't provided the best simulator, but muscle memory gave a starting point to extrapolate from.

"Do you want to be an Avenger?" asked Bucky Barnes.

Did she? Teresa didn't want to just hand over the gauntlets, even though that had been her plan. Or, she'd told herself that was the plan. She'd been working on them, pouring over their documentation, practicing, attempting to bridge the gap between physics known and that demonstrated by the gauntlets for years. "I want to be an Avenger."

The Scarlet Witch, how had she been saddled with that name, spoke next. "You're uncertain."

She smiled brittlely. This was going to be impossible. "I'm probably leaving town soon. I should go now."

Bucky Barnes got up and she tensed. He was just getting her coat. He held it for her.

Teresa stood and slipped on her coat, picked up her bag. She was going to have to trust New Yorkers would be sufficiently self-absorbed to not panic about her in a ski mask, even one this cute, leaving the Tower. The elevator opened just before she reached the doors and she walked in turning around. They closed hiding the Avengers.

\------------

Teresa had noticed the app on her phone a week, two weeks ago. It wasn't using her data plan, so she didn't worry about Where in the World, Avengers edition. A lot of the announcements were publicity events, and there were incidents maybe not worldwide but across the country and more.

And then there was an alert for a location nearby, and the app was giving her travel instructions to and away from. She thought for a moment; she had the gauntlets with her and she dug in her bag, finding the mask. It was getting too warm for it not to be suspicious. Teresa headed for the subway. It'd be over by the time she got there or there'd be a cordon. She went anyway.

She got off at the station the app instructed and walked towards chaos. She passed several stations closed off but wasn't turned back on the street. The officers were concentrated closer to the fight, alongside the sawhorses and plastic tape. The app aggregated recently posted footage. Teresa milled into the bystanders and got her mask on, continuing around the site. The sprinkling of impromptu cosplayers gave her some cover in their facepaint and or t-shirts.

She dashed forward and held her hands up as the empty warehouse tipped and tumbled over, spraying bricks shook loose by impact on the field. Teresa turned, watching members of the crowd pull the sawhorses back, expanding the cordon. She looked down at the ground behind her, great gouges and divots in the already failed pavement. The gauntlets transferred most of the weight into the ground, diverting it from her own arms. Most wasn't all, and she started walking back.

She heard something behind her, wondering what new problem had opened up. She looked and saw Spider-Man using a chopped car frame as a push broom, filling in the broken terrain with rubble and smoothing it down.

It took time, which meant the Avengers managed to make their way around and were on hand for the tricky bit of getting clear of the building. She wasn't sure if they were short a Black Widow or if she figured, rightly enough, this wasn't her skill set.

Hawkeye's apparently included being the jaws of life, pulling her backwards as the concrete floor sheared out and embedded itself at a jaunty angle by its reinforcing material. Spider-Man somehow webbed together part of the building so he, Nomad and Falcon could tug it off Captain America.

She, Captain America, waved to the crowd and then walked off with Falcon. Spider-Man had disappeared. "Can you walk?" Hawkeye asked, and Teresa realized she'd just held on. She tested her legs, and somehow she'd not twisted an ankle or knee during everything. Teresa nodded and let go, stepping away. "This way." It seemed a more practical option than back into the crowd. Following Hawkeye, not a hardship.

She didn't see Black Widow but neither did she see Nomad and he had just been with them. It was entirely possible they were securing whoever had caused this; she'd been busy on the subway. Dr. Banner met Captain America and Falcon and Teresa decided to not pay them much attention. Which left a suit who was talking to police and fire rescue. He seemed to exude a Not My Problem field which was a pretty good trick for a white man of his age and probably FBI/ATF/DEA.

"We good for the handover?" Hawkeye asked as they closed on Suit.

"No added hazardous wastes, eldritch energies or the like. The other buildings' structural damages will need a wrecking ball to drop them, at least in the short term."

"Cool." Hawkeye turned to her. "Have you decided on a callsign? I'd say you've decided that you do want to be an Avenger." He nodded at the other man. "Phil's good at making things happen." He headed to the vertical takeoff vehicle.

"Are you a United States' citizen? It's not required, but alien residency is more difficult with a secret identity."

She wondered just how one practiced that sort of earnest "I'm a paper pusher" with its undercurrent of "the IRS have nightmares about me." She thought he was from a deeper end of the alphabet soup than she'd heard of.

\-------------------

Teresa, if asked, wouldn't have thought the hardest part of being a superhero was coming up with a name. Apparently, there had been problems with name reuse and some heroes had used several names because of successive overlaps with others. Captain America wanted her to have a callsign as Hawkeye named it before she got comms, and she wanted her to have comms before she joined in again.

Also, her callsign was needed to finalize her costume. She didn't understand that, but the others had concurred and they were experienced.

She'd had to do a literature review of newspapers international and domestic, and even that wasn't complete; codenames were also associated with Mutants rarely reported. The Avengers had a list to check against.

Phantastique. She'd tried it out of exasperation. Interestingly, while it had been used for a Hot Wheels car, a band or DJ, a video game and referred to a horse, no superhero nor supervillian came up. She made her way to a dead drop she'd been assigned, and threw away a folded sandwich wrapper with the name written on it.

\------------------

Apartment hunting was worse. Some of that was related to superheroing logistics; mostly it was that Teresa was not dealing with roommates. Which might be superhero problems but her subletting had clarified to her what she would and would not accept in living arrangements. She felt like she'd been all over all of the boroughs at this point.

This latest was not going to work; it was Manhattan Midtown, so there was no way it was affordable, but the rental agent was willing to waste his time showing it to her so she could be entertained taking a look.

As she approached the correct numbering on the block, she realized she could have taken a different subway train. Maybe as an Avenger she'd figure out a better sense of cross streets. The building was older, a bit of an anomaly amid the construction being done in the shadow of the Chitauri damage. It was quite a bit taller than most of the buildings of its era. She stepped up to the revolving door and pushed.

The lobby was, this was Old New York. The center was double height with a lighted ceiling and chandeliers. She would take a look down here after her appointment. She found the elevator specified in the email and pressed the call button. It arrived, revealing a fantasy in veneer. Had it always been self-serve?

She got out on the 17th floor and with only a little peering at the gilt numbering found the correct hall. She rang the bell which was opened quickly by the agent. The apartment was not on the north or west sides of the building, there was a view out to the street, or at least over into the construction across the street. The apartment had a ceiling about fourteen feet above and was about half as wide.

The agent was very practiced in the patter of the amenities, which was a kitchenette about as big as a china cabinet and a bathroom so small the tub was accessed on end. The heat was steam explaining the radiator spanning under the window. She prepared herself for the exorbitant rental price.

What she heard took her breath away, but not for how high it was. Was this the site of a mass murder?

"Interestingly, if that were the case, it'd be listed at standard rates if not higher." He must have heard the question enough times to answer it unbidden. "No, the issue is a lower cap of renters' insurance than typical for the area. Will you be installing any Picassos or Matisse?" It was rhetorical. "There is a freight elevator that services the floor during limited hours to be used for move in, departure with luggage and any delivery of large items."

What that could possibly be she wondered, though a breadbox would be large enough in this apartment. She didn't have much, and this was certainly convenient. Why was the insurance capped low? "Let's make this happen."

\----------------------

Phantastique stood on the flightdeck of Avengers Tower. Her costume was peacock blue with an armored jacket mid-thigh in length, trim trousers, boots and a pull up cowl. Currently, this was the only one, but a second one was being made, and it would be kept here or brought onto the quinjet.

She headed inside, smiling at Captain America; she'd been told earlier to "Call me Steve." At Steve. Teresa went to change out of her costume and fold it into a smart pouch.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last of my stories I started before Stan Lee's passing. I find it fitting that I did as he said; I created a new character. Excelsior, thank you for the heroes and memories.


End file.
